Keep me from falling
by ncis-lady
Summary: Three times Fred Weasley felt like he was losing ground.   Missing scenes from The Deathly Hallows, the way Fred Weasley could have seen them.   Incl. FredxAngelina. Rated T for language.
1. Chapter 1

Hello everyone!

So... here I am again, writing about the Weasley twins. I just can't let go, but how could I, with the first part of the final movie coming out soon? No, I'm far from being over it.

I've written a lot about George Weasley and the aftermath of Fred's death, so I thought it's now time to focus on Fred. This story will (most probably) have three parts, and they will be (sort of) missing scenes from The Deathly Hallows.

It includes, but doesn't focus on, FredxAngelina, so don't like, don't read!

Rated T for language.

I'm not a native speaker so please forgive minor mistakes! (And tell me about the big ones, please, I'm always eager to learn!)

This story is dedicated to my mum - I've lived half my life without you now, but you're always in my heart - and my uncle, her twin brother.

I hope you like it, I appreciate your reviews!

* * *

**Keep me from falling

* * *

**

**1. Swaying**

He was freezing. He hadn't really thought of how cold it would be, and he pulled his black robe tighter around his body. His eyes fell upon his hand, and for a moment he didn't recognize it. The he rememered that this was intentional. He sighed.

"Are you alright, Fred?"

"I'm fine, Dad."

The red head in front of him nodded.

Fred Weasley felt the urge to speak, to talk to his father about all those unimportant things you talked about to ease the nervousness, but he knew that he shouldn't do that. His dad needed to concentrate on the task ahead, which was taking both himself and his son to the portkey that would bring them to The Burrow. 20 miles to go. And just when Fred relaxed, all hell broke lose.

Suddenly there were hooded figures everywhere, and Fred knew immediately that something had gone wrong. This wasn't part of the plan. With the left hand he held on tight to his father's waist, while the right searched for the wand hidden in his pocket.

The broomstick swerved to the side, then dropped five feet, and a jet of red light passed Fred's head just by inches.

"Merlin's hairy bu...", but before he could even finish the sentence, the broom spun around again a second before another well-aimed curse could reach the two men.

"Fred, watch out!", Mr Weasley yelled. "I need you!"

Fred took a deep breath. His pulse was far too high, and he needed to calm down. Everything would be okay.

"Oh God!"

Fred followed his dad's gaze, and he could see Harry and Hagrid in the distance who were obviously having trouble with another figure chasing them. He had almost forgotten that he and his father weren't the only ones in danger, and now that he remembered the fear hit him even harder.

"Dad, what about...", but Mr Weasley interrupted him almost harshly.

"They will be alright, Fred. Stay focused."

But despite the confident words, Fred couldn't help but notice the shaking of his dad's voice.

* * *

Fred didn't know how much time passed. It was probably only a few minutes, but it felt like hours. There were screams everywhere, he could make out curses, commands, and from time to time he heard someone yell out in pain, and he tried to shut out those noises and stay focused.

A hooded figure suddenly appeared on his right side, and Fred reached out his wand, "Confringo!" – the masked man burst into a ball of flames.

"Well done, boy!", Fred heard his father say, "We better get out of here quick..."

The last words were barely audible to Fred as all of a sudden he felt a wave of dizziness wash over him. The world went black in front of his eyes, and he tried desperately to hold on to his father's waist as he lost balance.

"Fred! Fred, what's wrong?"

"It's George."

Somehow, that was all that Fred could say, and even those words made him choke. And the sound of his own voice was downright scary. It wasn't the fact that it was the voice of Harry Potter, though – it was the unusual tremor that went along with it. Harry never sounded so... so terrified.

"Dad, we've got to turn around! Please, Dad!"

He tugged at his father's robe, although deep down he knew there was no use in trying.

But this was about George.

"Dad, please!"

He hated this voice. And even more he hated that there was absolutely nothing he could do but pray that everything wasn't as horrible as it seemed.

* * *

When they finally landed, Fred's legs gave way, and it was only for his father's quick reaction that he didn't fall down. Feeling his dad's tight grip around his arms, Fred looked up at the older one. He couldn't speak as his father let him sink to the ground to sit down on the grass.

Mr Weasley was pale, one of his spectacles was broken, and sweat was running down his forehead. Apart from that he seemed uninjured, though shocked.

"Son, are you alright?"

Fred tried to nod, but somehow his body wouldn't respond to his brain's orders. All he managed was a "'m fine" which wasn't more than a whisper.

His father gave him a scrutinizing look, as if to read what was going on in his son's mind. But even Fred himself didn't really know what had happened.

"You're changing back", Mr Weasley said, hinting at Fred's hands. He was right. His hands were already growing, and the robe tightened around his broadening shoulders. "I go find the portkey, you catch your breath."

Fred nodded, pointing his wand at his clothes. "Engorgio."

But although his neck wasn't strangled by the tight robe anymore, he still could barely breathe.

George.

Something was wrong, he knew it. He hadn't seen or heard anything, it wasn't like he'd had a vision or some other sort of supernatural ability. Still, he was sure that something was horribly wrong.

This wasn't the first time this happened, but never before had that weird feeling been so overwhelming. He remembered how George had broken his ankle during one of their Quidditch practises in the garden, and how he, Fred, had felt a subliminal pain he'd never told anyone about. He hadn't even told George.

And now he was sitting on the ground, shaking slightly, watching his father scan the area for a rustly kettle or felt hat or whatever was supposed to bring them home, and he couldn't shake off the fear.

Then again, wouldn't he know if... But he didn't allow this thought to go further.

"Fred, I've got it!"

Fred could make out his father in the distance, and he got to his feet and somehow managed to find his way to where his father was waiting next to an ancient plimsoll.

Neither of the men spoke as they both gripped it, waiting to get home.

* * *

They landed about one hundred yards away from The Burrow. Fred could see the light in the kitchen window, the apple trees, he could even hear the chickens in the shed. He didn't hear a human voice.

"George", he whispered. And he ran.

He reached the door, panting heavily (although he didn't know whether it was because of the physical stress or because of something else), only to find the door blocked by Kingsley Shacklebolt. The dark man pointed his wand not at him, but at his father, who had arrived at the door just a second after his son and who was looking angrier than Fred had ever seen him.

"Stop fooling around, let us in!"

"What was inside the parcel you send..."

"I'll prove who I am, Kingsley, after I've seen my son, now back off if you know what's good for you!"

And before neither Kingsley nor Fred could react, Mr Weasley had pushed the guard aside and stomped through the door. Fred shot the man a half-hearted hateful look before he hurried after his father through the kitchen and into the living room.

"Arthur! Oh thank goodness"

Molly Weasley rushed towards them, tears in her eyes, but immediately let the two men approach the sofa.

The world started spinning before Fred's eyes as he leant over the back of the sofa. There was George, unnaturally pale and still, and there was blood... too much blood. It stained the cushions, the two towels on the floor, and George's clothes.

And worst of all, there was that dark hole where his ear ought to be.

Fred felt sick. This wasn't real. It could not be. It was nothing but some awfully vivid nightmare.

Then George stirred.

"How do you feel, Georgie?", asked his mother. Her voice was still trembling.

All Fred could do was stare at his brother as his hand reached for the clean hole in the side of his head.

"Saint-like."

Saint-like? That didn't make sense. None of this did. Terrified, Fred looked at his father.

"What's wrong with him?", he managed ask. "Is his mind affected?"

The older one looked helpless.

"Saint-like."

Fred's heart skipped a beat as his brother opened his eyes, apparently searching for familiar faces and finding his twin.

"You see... I'm holy. _Holey_, Fred, geddit?"

There was a faint smile on George's face, and it was this that made Fred exhale deeply and close his eyes for a split second.

A joke. This was all just one messy, absolutely not funny joke.

Everything would be okay. 


	2. Chapter 2

Hey, here's the second part of my Fred story.

Warning: contains Fred/Angelina shipping!

* * *

**Stumbling**

"So what do you think?"

"It's nice."

"Just 'nice'? I bring you to my favourite place in town and you say it's nice?"

Fred chuckled and winked at the girl sitting opposite him.

"Your ravishing beauty diminishes even the brightest of places, Mylady."

He really hoped she'd see the joke in this, otherwise this afternoon would soon turn into something very embarassing. And by embarassing, he meant even for his standards embarassing, and that had to mean something from the man who had once been caught with his pants down by none other than Professor McGonagall herself. He shuddered.

Angelina Johnson, though, didn't seem to notice his distracted mind. She laughed.

"'Ravishing beauty'? Where did you get that from, you cheeky buggar?"

"A gentleman never gives away his secrets."

Angelina smiled, and suddenly Fred found the plastic menue card of the cosy restaurant very interesting. Especially since he could hide behind it so that nobody would see him blushing.

This never happened to him. Not to Fred Weasley, who was proud to say that he himself had not only successfully checked all "12 fail-safe ways to charm witches", but had added a few more in the copy he and George had given Ron for his birthday. And now he was sitting here, having lunch with an ex-classmate, and he couldn't look at her without feeling like he needed to do something incredibly impressive. Like, conjuring a chocolate cake out of thin air, now that would surely do the trick.

"Have you made up your mind yet?"

He looked at the young woman who had obviously been watching him.

"About what?"

"Whether or not you will finally kiss me tonight, Mr Loverboy." Angelina grinned. "The food, of course! What you're having?"

But instead of answering, Fred couldn't take his eyes of her, and for the first time in his life he couldn't think of a witty thing to say.

He wondered if he should tell her how his heart had skipped a beat when she'd walked towards him earlier. Or about the fact that he had missed her wonderful smile ever since he'd last seen her.

But before he could bring himself to say anything, a swooshing noise made Angelina and him jump up, almost knocking over the table which Angelina prevented at the last second with a flick of her wand.

Then the two young people stared at the silvery panther that materialised in front if them.

"I'm sorry to interrupt that romantic dinner for two, and hope I haven't caught you snogging", the Patronus spoke with the mocking voice of George Weasley. Mortified, Fred chanced a glance at Angelina, who was obviously supressing a grin.

Where was the hole in the ground when you needed one?

"Fred, you might want to come back. Dad's here." The tone of George's voice had changed and become more serious. "I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important."

And with that, the silver panther disappeared.

"What was that about?", Angelina asked, with both curiosity and worry.

"I don't know."

George knew how important this day was to him. If he still chose to disturb his date, he surely had a very good reason. He would pay dearly if he didn't.

Fred wondered if it had something to do with the Order, if someone had been hurt (Fred didn't want to think of the worst) – but then again, George's voice had sounded just a bit too calm for that.

Fred sighed and looked at Angelina.

"I'm sorry, Ange, but I'm afraid I have to go. I don't want to, not at all, but..."

"There's nothing to apologize for", said Angelina. "It's your family, you have to go."

Fred nodded. That was one of the many things he loved about that girl, she was always understanding when it came to family.

"I'll owl you as soon as I can, okay?", he said. "Thank you for the wonderful night, anyway."

He pulled her into a hug and intended to kiss her on the cheek. Angelina, however, kissed him full on the mouth.

And Fred willingly abandoned himself to the sweet taste of Angelina's soft lips, breathed in the scent of her hair and wished he could just stay in this moment forever. Or at least for quite a while.

But it was over too soon, and Angelina drew back, eyes opening as a smile appaeared on her face.

"I'm looking forward to seeing you again soon. Don't you keep me waiting too long."

* * *

When Fred apparated inside his and George's flat above the shop, he wasn't surprised to find his twin and his father already waiting for him. What he wasn't prepared for were the looks on their faces.

His father, who was sitting on the old sofa, looked tired, and for the first time Fred noticed the grey strands in what little hair he had left.

George was standing opposite his dad, arms crossed, a sulky expression on his face which looked so unlike him that Fred didn't know whether he should laugh or be worried.

"Okay, I'm here. What's wrong?", he asked.

"Fred, your mother and I have decided that..."

"They want us to go into hiding and leave the shop!", George interrupted the older man furiously. "Just because some idiot at the ministry thinks we're in danger! Danger, ha! Aren't we all in danger just by lacking the Dark Mark?"

"George, I've told you, Craig O'Haran is one of the best spies we have, and if he says that You-Know-Who's got a lead on us then I damn well believe it!"

"But we can't just abandon the shop, not –"

"- after everything we've done to make this our home!", Fred finished. George smiled at him, it was the typical Weasley-twins-we-know-what-each-other-wants-to-say situation. It never failed.

The twins watched as their father sighed, rubbed his face with his hands and finally looked at them again.

Fred knew that look all too well, and he was sure that George remembered it, too. It was the kind of look that their dad used to save for the really critical situations back when they'd been children. The kinds of situations when they'd done something pretty nasty and Arthur still wanted to keep his wife out of it. Fred hadn't seen that look in a very long time, and he thought that this couldn't be good.

He was right.

His father got up from the sofa, and Fred was suddenly aware that he was still taller than his sons.

"Boys, I understand your concerns, I really do. But this is not for negotiation. You will join me and your mother and come to Aunt Muriel's place."

"Aunt Muriel?", Fred gasped. "You didn't mention _that_ before! No way I'm going there!"

"And me neither!", George shouted.

"We aren't just gonna hide and wait till this bloody war is over –"

" - we're no cowards –"

" - let'em come –"

" - we're ready to fight even if you're not –"

"_Shut up_, both of you!"

There was silence. Fred stared at his father, who was obviously shaking with rage. He glanced at his twin and wondered if he had the same shocked expression on his face as George. Most probably he did – he had never, _never_, heard his father shout like that before.

The older man sat down on the sofa again, jaw clenched, forehead wrinkled, concern in his eyes.

"Don't you understand? Are you really that egoistic?"

Something in his voice made a shiver run down Fred's spine. He cast down his eyes because all of a sudden he found it impossible to look his father in the eye.

"You two don't even start to think of how much this war has already cost us, do you? What with Ron missing, and Bill's and George's injury, not to mention Albus Dumbledore, and Remus and Mad-Eye. The reason why I'm here today is because I've seen it all before. Damnit boys, this is the second war against the Dark Lord, and the last time we were in this situation there were quite a few young people just like you. Daring and brave and willing to do their bit in the fight against You-Know-Who. Good people, like James and Lily, Alice and Frank. Like Fabian and Gideon."

His voice broke, and Fred was sure that his heart missed a beat when he realized what he was witnessing.

His father had tears in his eyes. And even worse, he didn't seem to try to hide them.

"Dad", George said tentatively, and Fred turned to look at his twin. "I'm... I'm sorry."

George's face was white, and Fred assumed that his hands were shaking just as much as his own.

Of course he knew about his uncles. Sometimes he thought he could even faintly remember them although he had only been a toddler when they'd been killed. Maybe it was a twin thing, some sort of connection, he didn't know. He did know, though, that George had felt it, too.

Fred also remembered the sad eyes his mother got whenever she spoke of her brothers.

He took a deep breath and looked to George, then to his father.

"We'll get our things packed, Dad."

"Give us five minutes", George added quietly.

Their father nodded.

"I'll be waiting downstairs."

With that he left, and Fred watched him as he walked out of the room, for a moment wondering why he suddenly felt like his childhood had just vanished in front of his eyes. He turned around, and his and George's eyes locked for a second.

Fred stared at his brother as if he had never really seen him before. His mirror image, a carbon copy except for the dark hole in the side of George's head. His mother had asked why George didn't let his hair grow a bit longer, not as long as Bill's, of course, but just long enough for it to cover the side of his head. George had dismissed that idea, even laughed about it, stating that after all, it was a battle wound to show off with.

Fred hated that wound.

No matter how much they'd joked about it, Fred hated the fact that even total strangers would now be able to tell him and George apart. He hated feeling like something had been broken, yet what exactly it was he couldn't tell. And most of all, he hated the memories.

He was sure that for the rest of his life, he would never forget that one fragment of a second when he thought he'd lost George. A feeling like this had always been beyond his imagination, because it just could not happen. It was as simple as that. He could not lose his twin, fact. And yet he had felt it, this feeling like all energy had left his body while nothing but an empty shell, that had once used to be human, remained.

And he knew for sure that he never wanted to feel like that again.

"Fred, are you alright?"

He blinked, and there was George looking at him from across the room. He was standing at the window, and as the sun was shining, all Fred could see against the bright light was the silhouette of his brother. A shadow, _his_ shadow, forever.

"It's going to be okay, you know that, right?", George added quietly.

There was no way a man could be parted from his shadow.

"Yeah, I know", Fred said and summoned his trunk from underneath the bed. "I'm good. Really."


	3. Chapter 3

**Okay... so here I am again. It took me ages to write this chapter (and the following) and what can I say, I'm not satisfied. Sad, eh? I think (or _know_) that I can do better than this. But however, I'm posting this anyway because I know that right now, I can _not_ do it better. Uni is a pain in the behind and then there's other things that distract me too much (my life was sooo much easier when I thought boys were stupid LOL). I hope someone's still reading this, if so, let me know what you think, please!**

* * *

**Being held**

The sun was shining from a clear, blue sky. A bird could be heard from the distance, singing a cheerful melody. It was a peaceful summer's day.

Fred was restless.

He had been feeling like that for days now and it was driving him insane. He couldn't remember when exactly it had begun, but suddenly it had been there. The anticipation, excitement, the feeling that something big was going to happen soon.

He knew that George was feeling the same way. He could tell it by the looks he and his twin shared from time to time, he noticed how tense George sometimes was, and he, too, used to stare out of the window and wait for something, anything, to break the routine.

Still – he was worried.

It wasn't often, of course, that a shiver ran down his spine and gave him goosebumps. He didn't even understand it. He really did want to fight, he was waiting impatiently for the battle that was bound to happen sooner or later. He definitely wasn't scared – or was he?

He shook his head absentmindedly. He was not afraid. Everything was going to alright in the end.

"Fred, are you okay?" George had approached him with a mug in his hand. "Fancy a cup of tea?"

"I'm fine, George", said Fred, trying to shake off the thoughts that hadn't yet been fully formed in his head. He couldn't even remember what had come to his mind the second before his brother had shown up.

George sat down beside him. He didn't say anything for a while, and when he finally spoke his voice was quiet.

"Don't lie to me, Fred. I can always tell when you're lying. You're not alright."

Fred shrugged.

"Believe me, I'm good."

George sighed, and Fred didn't like the sound of it. It looked like he was up for one of George's – thankfully rare – speeches.

"Don't roll your eyes", said George. "I know you."

"I said I'm fine!", Fred replied harshly. "So quit the heart-to-heart talking!"

Immediately, he wanted to slap himself. He couldn't even remember the last time he had yelled at his brother.

That was _so_ not right.

"I'm..."

"...sorry. Yeah, I know. Apology accepted."

George smiled at his brother, but for some reason Fred couldn't find a way to smile back. He avoided his look and instead turned back to staring out of the window. A few clouds had appeared. They were fluffy and white and one of them looked exactly like Ron's old teddy bear before it had become Ron's biggest nightmare.

Ron was still missing.

"I wonder if Ron is okay", he mumbled. "What if he's..." But he couldn't say it. Saying the word would make it possible, and it definitely was not possible.

"He's okay, I'm sure about that", George answered. "We would have heard if he was..." He couldn't say it, either.

For a couple of minutes the two brothers stood in silence. George was sipping his tea, and Fred thought that if there was any drink he needed right now, it would be Firewhiskey.

"You know", he said, "I've never felt like that in my whole life. The one second, I can't wait for the fight to begin. Everytime I talk on the radio and tell people to be careful, all I want to do is get up and fight. Like, I really can't wait. And isn't that crazy? Shouldn't I be glad that it's still peaceful?"

George shook his head.

"It's not peaceful. It hasn't been for a long time. Right now, it is just the quiet before the storm. And believe me, this'll be one hell of a storm. And it's coming straight towards us. It's totally normal to be worried."

"I'm not -", but Fred didn't finish the sentence. "You're right. I am. That's the other second, you know? All of a sudden this whole situation scares the crap out of me. I mean, what are the odds? What's the probability that we'll all make it through? I shouldn't think like that, really I shouldn't, but it's been so long since we last heard from Ron, and every Deatheater knows that Mum and Dad were in the Order during the first war, and it's not like they haven't found our family before. What if next time we're not that lucky? What if someday the war will be over, and we'll ask ourselves if it was worth the price we payed?"

Fred exhaled, and was ashamed when he felt his eyes burn as he looked at his twin. He hadn't even known that he had those thoughts, and now he had just spilled his heart out in a way he had never wanted to. Not even to George.

It didn't mean he didn't trust George. If there was anyone in the world he would always trust with his life, it was his twin. But until this day, he had always tried to act strong and brave - although he knew that George could easily look right through it. Actually _saying_ those things out loud was something completely different. Saying them made it real, and just like he couldn't even think – let alone speak- about what might happen to Ron, he had never talked about the other fears. The fear of losing a friend, a family member, George. George.

He shook his head furiously, as if trying to get rid of the thought. He would not allow this idea to even get into his head.

George had sat down, apparently having forgotten about his tea. He moved his hand as if to lay it on Fred's knee, but then decided against it. Fred was grateful for that. It would have been just the final straw, and he knew he couldn't handle that.

"You know", George said slowly, "I think you're right. The odds are miserable. With such a big family, it's pretty damn unlikely that we'll get out of it without a scratch." Absent-mindedly he touched the side of his head. Fred looked away. "But then again, we wouldn't be supporters of the Cannons if we didn't believe that you can beat the odds, right?"

George winked at his brother, and Fred couldn't help but chuckle. Sometimes his twin had a great way to simplify things.

"Maybe you're right. I'm probably just being silly."

He knew he wasn't, and so did George.

"Hey", said the younger twin, serious again, "as long as I'm around, nothing bad's gonna happen to you."

And before Fred could say anything, the fake Galleon that had been lying on his desk ever since he'd left Hogwarts, and which was covered with a thin layer of dust, started to glow.

It was time.


	4. Chapter 4

**Silence**

Fred never would have thought that he would ever fight in a battle side by side with Percy. Now he thought that it wasn't that bad.

Still, he wished George was there. He wanted, needed, to know that he was alright. Of course, he was sure that he'd know if... but George was okay. He had to.

"Hello Minister! Did I mention I'm resigning?"

Fred turned his head and stared at his older brother in surprise.

"You're joking Perce! I don't think I've heard you joke ever since you were -"

Explosion. Fire. Debris.

Silence.

* * *

_All for one and one for all_  
_My brother and my friend_  
_What fun we have_  
_The time we share_  
_Brothers 'til the end._

Author Unknown


End file.
